


Did someone say Guacamole?

by 123PixieAOD



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bullying, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Family, Fluff, Food, Geeky, M/M, Nerdiness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123PixieAOD/pseuds/123PixieAOD
Summary: Bertolt Hoover is just your average seventeen boy, trying to just survive highschool and keep a handle on his eccentric mom. The one thing he did not need was for his mom, Hange, to begin dating his principle, Erwin Smith. And he definitely didn't need Annie, principle Erwin's gloomy goth daughter to move in with them. And the one thing he most certainly didn't need was to be partnered with Reiner Braun, the popular athletic kid whose grades are on a downward protectory and who desperately needs a tutor. But as long as he just puts his head down, gets on with it, and most importantly ignores the way he's beginning to feel around Reiner, he should be fine, right?
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Hange Zoë, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. Leftover pizza

Finding out that his mother was dating Principle Erwin was not what Bertolt had planned for that Monday.

It was the week of finals. He had just taken his English exam which had gone much better than he had hoped. The joy he felt in returning his battered copy of _Macbeth_ to the librarian was a rush he knew he’d be living off for the next three months of summer.

So yes, he was in a pretty good mood when he walked through the door. He had planned on spending the evening studying German modal verbs and reheating the pizza he had made yesterday before an early bedtime. He had not planned on seeing his mother on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen tiles.

He should’ve known something was up from that. His mother _never_ cleaned if she could help it. The one thing Hange Hoover hated more in the world than work on Mondays was cleaning.

So the fact she had taken a day of work to clean should’ve alerted him that something was up.

“Mommm.” He spoke slowly, as if trying not to alarm a wild animal.

 _ABBA_ was playing from their ancient stereo, and his mom was singing along to ‘Dancing Queen’. Her head shot up when she saw him, and she waved.

“Hi dear!” Her hair, which was normally messy to begin with, was jutting off in all directions. She had tied an old rag around her hairline, and brought it down to wipe at her forehead. Her glasses, he noticed affectionately, were madly lop-sided. “How was Maths?”

Bert let his bag slump off his shoulder and drop to the floor. “Maths was Friday and it was good thanks.” He spoke slowly, peering into the living room and taking in it’s appearance.

If nothing else, his mom had clearly been working hard. All the detritus that that the two of them had collected over the years, the mountain of birthday cards on the mantlepiece, the broken writing desk covered in old National Geographics, even the pile of netting that his mom swore she’d put on the window but hadn’t gotten around to, had vanished. It was all gone. The clutter of books in the corner had been neatly stacked; the coffee table bare from empty coffee cups for the first time Bert could properly remember. She’d even straightened the hanging paintings which had been lopsided for forever. It was like a room you’d see in a catalogue.

He went to take a step forward but his mother’s shout stopped him.

“No shoes inside from now on! We’ll buy cheap slippers from the thrift shop.”

He peered back around the corner, looking at his mother.

“Why?”

“Because do you know how long it took to hoover that damn carpet?! And-“ She gestured to herself –“not to mention I’d prefer not to have to get down on my hands and knees scrubbing monthly.”

That should’ve been his second warning that something was up. His mom was planning on keeping the house tidy.

"Mom why aren’t you at work?” His mom worked as a nurse at their local hospital. Even though she liked to complain about the hours, he knew she secretly enjoyed it. She only took days off when she thought she could have something transmittable like the flu. When she pulled her back a few years ago, she still stubbornly continued working. It had gotten worse and worse, until Bert had been the one to find her on the floor one morning. He had had to take a week off school to cook for her when she recovered (although he convinced her it had been just teacher training days).

Anyway, his point was that she only missed work when she was really ill.

She shrugged, addressing his shoes. “I thought the house was in need of a clean.”

And apparently for cleaning too.

“Right well-

“And I’ve invited someone over. On Friday.” She blurted the words out, eyes still firmly on his shoes.

The news itself wasn’t all that shocking. Bert had grown up around her two best friends, Nanaba and Petra. Most weekends they came over, which was normally his cue to head to his room and listen to Hans Zimmer soundtracks loudly as he studied.

The way his mother said the news was though. Bert didn’t reply for a moment, watching her stand and fidget.

She bit her lip, reaching up to right her glasses.

It was then that Bert realised she had said _someone_. Not _Nanaba and Petra_. Not even _some people._ But _someone._

“Is it… a guy?”

His mom didn’t answer, instead pushing herself up from the floor. She stretched, her joints popping. He knew she was very definitely avoiding answering him, which in itself very definitely gave him an answer.

Bert loved his mom a lot. He knew she’d given up a lot of things for him, especially when he was younger. She had had him at only seventeen. When Bert had been younger, seventeen had seemed very grownup, but now that he was actually that age he realised how young she had really been.

Although they had lived with her parents, his grandparents, for first ten years of his life she had always made sure to be there for him. Sure she might have missed the odd parent-teacher meeting over the years, but she had always loved him. She had always made sure to brush his hair every morning and read him bedtime stories every night.

Even though she had never said anything about it to him, Bert had always had a vague, subconscious understanding that his mom gave up a lot for him. When he was younger he’d feel guilty as hell that she’d walk to walk in shoes with the soles falling off in order to pay for his school books. That was the worst it had been, after his Grandpa had moved out but before she’d gotten the job as a nurse.

Now things were better, but he still felt guilty as anything. He had come to accept the he’d never fully get rid of the guilt, but instead he could convert it to gratefulness. So he became the best son he could possible be. He worked hard, got high grades, cooked on weekends.

He had also come to accept the understanding that she had a life outside of him. If anything, it made him feel less guilty.

So he never minded tidying up after one of her, Petra and Nanama’s “girls’ night”. And sometimes if he felt his mom was getting down he’d whip up some salsa and guacamole from a recipe he had made ages ago that his mom loved. He hated avocados, but always kept a bag of frozen ones incase of an emergency guacamole order. The girls would come over for a nacho (and probably lots of wine from all the empty glasses he’d tidy up the morning) night and his mom would be in a much better, if not hungover, mood the next day.

He had also come to accept that his mom had a love life of her own. Truthfully, it made him feel vaguely ill to even put the words _mom_ and _love life_ in the same sentence. Some nights Petra, Nanama and his mom would have a glass or two at theirs, and then head out for the night.

Bert wasn’t a complete innocent. He could work out that three thirty-something year olds heading out at ten o’clock weren’t exactly heading to the library. He knew his mom had missed out on the clubbing – college stage of her life, and plus she was always back, fast asleep by the time he’d get up so he didn’t really mind.

And his biggest fear of finding some guy making coffee in the kitchen or passed out on the coach had never come true yet either.

_Yet._

“A _guy_ someone?” He repeated the question to his mother, who was suddenly absorbed in cleaning her glasses.

She muttered something, and Bert indicated he hadn’t quite heard her.

The only plus side to the whole _mom_ and _love life_ thing was she seemed as eager to share details with her son as he was to hear them. She had never _once_ invited a guy around, never _once_ even discussed a man in her life. Until now.

“Yesssssss.” She drew out her _s_ sound for as long as possible before blurting the rest out. “Yes he is indeed a guy.”

“What’s his name?” The irony that Bert was the son and she was his mother was not lost on him. It was not uncommon in the house for conversations between mother and son be flipped like this, and Bert fulfilled the concerned parent role while his mother became the rebellious teenager.

“His daughter is in your year I think.” Now that she had rubbed her glasses for close to five minutes, she turned her attention to examining a knot in their wooden kitchen door.

Behind her, _ABBA_ had stopped romancing being seventeen, and instead turned their attentions to a man after midnight.

The irony of the moment just kept growing.

“Mom… What’s her name?”

His mother mumbled something, but then coughed and spoke up. “Annie.”

Bert leaned against the wall, mentally combing through his classmates before shaking his head.

“She must be in a different year. There’s only one Annie in my year but that’s Principle Erwin’s-“ Bert’s voice trailed away when he say his mother’s expression.

“No. Mom. Please no. Surely not. _Principle Erwin?!_ But he’s married!”

“Not anymore!” His mom joked meekly at him.

Bert’s mouth fell open. “Mom! Please do not tell me you home-wrecked principle Erwin’s marriage? I cannot -”

“Of course not Bert, I meant he’s recently divorced. And he’s-“

“So he’s this mystery man? My _principle?!_ But – but – but he’s so much older than you!”

His mom shook her head, hands on hips. “Not _that_ much older than me Bert. I’m 34 and he’s 45, that’s like five years-“

“Even if you round it that’s ten!”

She smiled dreamily. “Even if he was twenty years older, I’d still –“

“Ew mom. Please stop, I beg.” Bert went to grab his bag and to take shelter in his room but his mom grabbed his arm.

She rolled her eyes. “I was just going to say I’d still like him. He’s sweet, and kind and romantic.” She lowered her eyes, and the blush which had established itself on her cheeks burnt deeper. “I really like him. And I know I don’t have to ask you to be good on Friday, because firstly you’re nearly an adult but secondly you’re not like me, and I highly doubt you could be anything _other_ than good. But be good for me please.” She squeezed his arm.

Bert really _really_ didn’t want his mom dating his principle. But he looked at her and there was such this vulnerability on her face, as if his answer would crush her if he said no.

So he sighed and nodded. “Yes I’ll be good.”

She hugged him and kissed his cheek. She smelt of cleaning solution, of soap and polish, and it was so unlike her normal smell that Bert was momentarily taken back.

She released him, but before she could lay anymore unwanted bombshell on him Bert retreated upstairs.

“Sweetie would you be able to cook something up for tonight please? I really want to finish this floor.”

He groaned, his hand on the banister. So much for that vulnerability.

“Mom, I have German tomorrow. I need to study.

She opened her mouth, then seemed to dismiss herself. “You’re right; go study. It’s good you want to study. I didn’t give two hoots about schoolwork and look where I am now.”

He rolled his eyes, his resolve already wavering. “With a loving son who’ll cook dinner and a date with the local principle?”

She laughed, disappearing down the hall.

“How did a girl like Hange Hoover get so damn lucky?!” She called behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed chapter 1 :) I actually got the first 4 chapters done, but then more or may not have gotten waylaid with writing my other AOT story (which is called "To the Ends of the Earth and the Edges of Maps" if you wanna check it out... 👀😉 a lil bit of shameless self-promotion there!) If there's interest in this chapter, I'll for sure upload the remaining 3 chapters if people would be interested in reading them😊 If you've made it this for, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed Bertoldt and Momma Hange here 😊


	2. Burger with salsa on brioche buns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Thank you for the hits and kudos on chapter 1, and big shoutout to the29thrule for commenting and actually reminded me of this story! I hope ye all like chapter 2 :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My German is very very rusted, so please excuse any mistakes!

Bert flicked through the exam paper, relief flooding through him. The pluperfect, a few modal verbs, a letter about Oktoberfest. There was no surprised, nothing that could damage his grade.

Beside him, he could Reiner swear softly and Eren mindless tap his pen against the table.

_Am nacht hat meine Mutter hat Abendessen_____

His pen filled in the blank, his mind thinking back on last night. In the end he had cooked (a simple carbonara dish), and his mom had been true to her word and finished tidying the hall.

His mom must really want to impress Principle Smith if she took a day off to tidy. When he had asked her why she hadn’t done all this during the weekend, she had mumbled that she hadn’t _known_ he’d be coming over on Friday.

The idea that she had gone out on that Sunday not to go clubbing with the girls but to meet principle Erwin-

Bert grimaced to his past tense exercise.

It was only a dinner, he reminded himself. Just a Friday evening with his mother and her boyfriend.

Was that what they were? She hadn’t called him a _boyfriend_ or anything, but surely they must be dating. Bert knew that there’s no way his mother would introduce him to a guy unless she was serious.

Bert raised his eyes to check the giant clock hung above on the wall opposite. Not that he’d be rushed, he’d probably end up leaving early-

Bert’s train of thought was derailed abruptly. He’s eyes were not focused on the clock, but rather on a girl a row away and few seats in front of him.

Annie Smith.

Her hair, straightened and jet black, hung down her shoulders. He couldn’t see her face but he could guarantee that she was scowling.

Truthfully he had never seen Annie Smith _not_ scowl.

Oh Christ what if she was there for dinner too?

Like rain, panic filtered through his body. It wasn’t like he had anything _against_ Annie Smith. He just didn’t like her. Nobody did.

He sometimes thought that if popularity was on a parabola graph, him and Annie would be on opposite ends of the graph. Still at the drop-dead bottom, but at completely different points.

Nobody really wanted to be Bert’s friend, meanwhile Annie didn’t _want_ anyone to be her friend. He was sure if she reduced the intensity of her glares, actually returned small talk, didn’t look like she’d willingly bite the head off anyone who approached people would start liking her.

Of course it didn’t help that principle Erwin was her dad.

The door to the exam hall opened, and Bert eagerly redirected his attention. He just needed to get Annie Smith and her dad out of his head and-

He felt his mouth open. _Of course_ Principle Smith would chose that moment to check in with the supervising teacher.

He was a tall, imposing man. He always wore a dark suit and dark green tie, and his blond hair was always styled the same; a side parting gelled and carefully combed.

He just seemed so _bland._ There was no other word. Bert watched the man converse with Mr Shadis, his normal strident voice softened to a murmur.

His mother was so different, so much more vibrant. It was like trying to compare a whale with a chunk of cheese. They were just so different. He couldn’t imagine them even having a conversation, yet alone actually _liking_ each other.

As if Principle Smith could hear his thoughts, his head sharply turned towards Bert. Bert ducked into his paper, but not before he had caught the teacher’s eye.

He rested his head against the exam eyes closed. Why couldn’t his mom have fallen for someone else. _Anyone else._ Just not as long they didn’t call Scouts High School their workplace.

***

Bert’s mom arrived when he was half way through cooking.

“Sweetie! I didn’t know it was your day to cook!”

“It’s not.” Bert muttered as he flipped the burger. He had tried to study for chemistry, but he couldn’t concentrate. He had even worked on his King Tiger Airfix tank. His Grandpa had bought the set for his last birthday. He had mostly finished constructing the model, and was onto the painting part. Not wanting to get it finished so quickly, he worked slowly, allowing maximum an hour a night. His mom called him a nerd, but still proudly displayed all his finished models in the kitchen, in the glass cabinet that his grandparents had used for their best dining sets.

Normally he was able to just put on some Hans Zimmer music, and lose himself in the work, in creating a realistic model of war boats and tanks. He couldn’t get his mom and Annie and Principle Smith out of his mind though. What if they got married? And Principle Smith became his _stepdad_. And –

With a growl he had pushed his chair away from his desk, and stood. Whenever everything else failed, there was always cooking.

His mom wrapped a hand around his shoulder, watching the meat cook.

“Burgers?”

He grunted in response.

He could feel her eyes on him, analysing his mood.

“How was English.”

“English, which was yesterday by the way, was good thanks.”

His mom moved away, sitting down to undo her shoes.

“I thought maths was yesterday?”

“No mom maths was –“ Bert sighed, resigning from that line of argument and accepting she would forever be a day behind his schedule. “It was German today.”

“Oh _, es tut mir leid meine Sohn_.”

“ _Mein_ Sohn.”

“How did it go? Oh also on my break I got some slippers for us. Here, you’re a size six right?”

He took the slippers with a thank you, deciding not to tell her the last time he fit a size six was probably when Grandma last took him shoe shopping.

“It was okay thanks. I couldn’t concentrate though. Principle Smith came in and then I started thinking about Friday and-“

His mom sighed, already knowing where he was going.

“Bert, you need to relax. I know it’s easier said than done, but it’s just a dinner. There’s no need to get all anxious about it-“

“I’m not getting anxious”, he muttered, clearly growing more anxious about it. He was suddenly imagining Principle Smith and Annie in this very room, in three days time. What could they talk about? Why-

“Will Annie be here?” He blurted out.

He groaned when he saw the way his mother’s eyebrow rose.

“No mom not like that –“

“Does someone have a little crush?” She teased in a sing-song tone.

Bert pushed down on the burgers, allowing steam to erupt from the half cooked meat and temporally hiding his violent blush.

It wasn’t for the reason she thought though. He didn’t have a crush on Annie. In fact he barely ever had crushes.

He didn’t like thinking about crushes, or fancies, or love. They all ventured into the realms of metaphysics, of _feelings._ He preferred physical things. Like homework and reading and tank models.

And yes, he was aware of how incredibly lame that made him sound.

“Well to answer you’re question no, she wont be. From what Erwin’s told me, I think she took the divorce hard. Only child like yourself so no siblings to rely on. She’s very against either of them dating, but especially Erwin.”

_Erwin._

Well that was something at least. Friday’s prospect had already vastly improved.

Bert turned off the cooker, and slid the two burgers onto the buns he had prepared earlier. Homemade salsa, chopped lettuce, tomatoes and some mashed avocadoes for his mom on halved brioche buns.

“You spoil me sweetie thank you.” She kissed his cheek, and began to dive into the meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what ye all think, comments are always welcome :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Chili con carne with dips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Principle Erwin comes for Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been doing some thinking, and as this is set in modern times at a school, education is going to feature quite a bit. I realised that a) I know absolutely nothing about the American education system and b) I really don't have the time nor will to research into it... So you know what they say, write what you know all and that jazz.  
> So this story is officially taking place in Ireland!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Why was it when Bert was excitedly waiting for an event (like the release of a Hans Zimmer playlist), the days absolutely trudged by, but when he was dreading something the days sped past?

Suddenly it was Friday afternoon. He was finally finished all his exams, but he couldn’t help but feel he was about to take the biggest one yet that evening.

His mom took a half day, even though Principle Smith wouldn’t be arriving until eight. When Bert arrived home, she was hoovering with a frantic look in her eyes.

She turned it off as soon as she saw him, motioning him to come over.

He went to walk over, saw her glare and quickly took off his shoes and slid into the slippers (on Wednesday night between flashcards he had carefully unstitched portions of the sides to open them up).

“How does it look?”

“Well your hair’s looking like you’ve been electrocuted.” Bert said jokingly, eyeing the wild strands.

His mom sighed, frantically smoothing them down.

“Not me, the _table.”_

Bert raised his eyebrows, impressed. The table had _never_ been completely clear, even in Grandma and Grandpa times. In recent years it had been hidden under mountains of paper and washing to be folded.

“It looks bigger.” He marveled. It was fine piece of furniture, and the polish his mom must’ve put on it made it shine.

“No, I mean I laid it!”

Bert nodded slowly. “You sure did.”

There was nothing spectacular about how it was laid, just cutlery on either side of a plate and a glass, but Bert could hear the pride in his mom’s voice. He supposed it must’ve been a good while since they had eaten at a table laid like this.

He stopped.

“You’ve done it wrong, there’s three places.”

His mother gave him an annoyed look. “I told you Annie wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah so just you and Principle Smith.” Bert leaned over to collect the cutlery, but his hand was slapped away by his mother.

“Where are you going to eat, on the roof? Third place is for you silly.”

Bert looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Why would you want me there? And why would I want to be a plus-one on your date?”

His mom rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date meal. It’s more a hey!-get-to-know-my-family kinda meal.”

“Oh.” Bert could feel the telltale warmth in his cheeks. He guess this whole thing between them must be pretty serious so.

Meantime his mom was checking her phone, and gasped at the time.

“Sweetie I know I said I’d cook but –“

He nodded. He had already accepted he’d most likely be making that evening’s meal. He didn’t mind; he’d finished all his exams so didn’t need to study or anything.

“You’re a saviour.” His mom gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Have to spruce myself up! I feel so manky, covered in a layer of hospital grim.” She made a face. “Also, I bought ingredients for mac and cheese and some chips, I’ll text you the recipe!”

As soon as she left Bert went rummaging through the fridge, seeing what she bought. He was the one who tended to go shopping. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t go shopping or made him go, it as just easier (and far more cost-efficient) if he did it himself.

He’d gone too many evenings about to cook something and found a core ingredient missing from their cabinet.

His mom had this habit of religiously sticking to a shopping list for around half the items, maybe a bit more, then spectacularly disregarding the rest of the list. She’d go for cereal and milk, and come back with cereal, celery and a discount Pixar movie. She didn’t mean to, she’d just get distracted.

And it looked like today had been no different.

Milk, but no cheese. So no mac and cheese then. Just the mac.

Bert smirked to himself. _Welcome Principle Smith, and please enjoy this meal of mac._

He wasn’t perturbed. Truthfully he was a little bit pleased. He could do so much better than mac and cheese with a side of chips.

By the time his mother emerged downstairs in a floral dress and wet hair, Bert had the guacamole done, and frying some mince meat for the chili con carne.

“Something smells good.” His mom peered into the pan, before looking back at him. “What happened to mac and cheese?”

“Oh it doesn’t keep that well if you can’t serve it immediately.” He lied easily. “Plus I thought Mexican was impressive.” Not really a lie, but not the truth that it was just become most of the ingredients – rice, beans, peeled tomatoes – were canned or packet based, and therefor stocked in the house from his last shop.

His mother patted his cheek affectionately. “As always, you’re so right.”

***

Principle Smith arrived at eight at the dot. As in their grandfather clocked began chiming as he rang the bell.

“Oh Christ.” His mother paused whatever strand of hair she’d been patting down to turn to Bert. “He’s here.”

Just liked how she could tell where his thoughts were going, Bert too could see her thoughts run through her mind.

“Don’t worry mom you look lovely.”

He was emptying out a bowl of tortilla chips while making sure the rice didn’t boil over.

When she didn’t move, Bert glanced up at her, throwing back her words from earlier, “We gonna eat outside or-?”

She shook her head, as if to center herself to the present. “Of course. Door.”

Moments later, Bert could hear the door open, and his mom welcome him in. _Principle Smith._ He made a face in the cabinet glass opposite, before turning.

“Welcome in, welcome in, oh don’t worry about your shoes!” Her voice floated into the kitchen, light and bubbly, as if she hadn’t been anxiously gnawing her lip and waiting in the kitchen for the past hour.

“This is my son, Bert, but of course you already know him!” She laughed as they entered the kitchen.

Bert’s eyes widen. Principle Smith looked… normal? Or definitely more relaxed than usual. He was wearing Levi’s under a tight fitted white top, and _no dark green tie._

He knew it sounded stupid, but he had always just sort of assumed Principle Smith went around in a suit and tie 24/7. He never assumed he could dress so casual.

“Hi Bert.” His voice was the same though; the kind you’d be able to make out from another room.

Bert shook his hand, managing to do a sort of half-smile half-grimace. “Hi Principle Smith.”

Principle Smith snorted (Principle Smith could _snort?!)_ and shook his head. “Just Erwin please. Outside of school Principle Smith sounds so weird.”

Bert nodded mutely, too much in shock to respond.

Who knew Principle Smith, _Erwin,_ wandered around in Levi’s, snorting and using lexicon like _weird._

“Oh, here.” He handed Bert a brown paper bag, which Bert took automatically.

For the first time Bert had ever witnessed, Principle Smith seemed almost bashful.

“My daughter told me, in not so many words, that I would look like a major dweeb if I actually gave you this, but your mom happened to mention you like models and…” His voice trailed away as Bert lifted a box out of the bag.

His eyes opened wide. Then he blinked to make sure he was actually seeing right.

He was holding a model set for the _Cutty Sark_ clipper ship. His mouth fell open as he turned the box, looking at it. He wanted to pretend he was admiring the pictures on the box, but in truth he was just admiring the box itself. He had only done tanks and small planes before, this was _huge_ in comparison.

“Where did you get this from?” He asked in amazement, still admiring it. It looked like it would be amazing when finished. He mostly had to order the sets online, and they tended to stock only the popular ones. Nothing fancy like this.

His mom coughed slightly, and Bert remembered his manner, blushing. “I mean thank you very much.”

“My brother lives in Germany, and he knows how much I enjoy doing the models so he always brings some home. I had this one already so it was just at home gathering dust.” He moved to stand beside Bert, turning the box until they were both looking at the _Also Available_ part.

“I’ve done this one, this one, and…” He paused as his finger waved over the small pictures. “This one.”

He wasn’t saying it like he was boasting or anything. More like he was just talking about his passion.

“Wow, I’ve-“

Whatever Bert was about to say was cut off by the hissing of a pan overflowing.

“Shoot shoot shoot-“ He left Principle Smith holding the box and rushed past his mother to the hob. Lifting the pan off the cooker, he turned down the heat to wipe away the water.

“Looks like we’re just about to serve up! Would you like anything to drink?” His mother poured out a glass of wine for herself, some water for Erwin and a diet Coke for Bert.

As he strained the rice he could make out his mom in the other room, talking and laughing. Even though Principle Smith had gone up a whole bunch in his estimation, it was still very _very_ odd to have him in their house, sitting at the their table, talking. _With his mother._

Bert took out the guacamole and dips first and then presented the chili con carne. He couldn’t deny he was very pleased with how it turned out.

What he wasn’t pleased with was how much his mom and Principle Smith wanted him to be part of the conversation. Wasn’t cooking enough? Why did he have to talk too?

“How did your exams go Bert?”

He shrugged, focusing his gaze on the bowl in front of him. “They went okay thanks.”

His mother sighed, helping herself to more guacamole. “I can guarantee your English exam yesterday did not go ‘okay’ if that was the level of vocabulary you used.”

Bert looked up just quick enough to give his mom a glare.

“Mom, I told you, _English was four days ago._ I had Irish and biology yesterday.”

“What’s your favourite subject Bert?” Principle Smith tactfully moved the conversation on. “If I remember correctly you certainly have a wide choice to choose from.” His mother practically gleamed with pride at that.

Bert went to shrug, but figured he’d do himself a favour and just avoid one of his mother’s smart comment.

“I like most of my subjects. I’m probably best at maths,” Principle Smith nodded as if he didn’t know that Bert had represented their school at the Youth Maths Olympics a few years ago. “But I think I prefer science. Like biology or something.”

“You’re also very good at history though, aren’t you.” It was a bit disconcerting that Principle Smith already knew so much about Bert, but he nodded anyway.

“I was trained as an history teacher, once upon a time.”

That made Bert look up at Principle Smith in surprise. He had always figured he had been an business teacher or something boring.

“Oh I was always awful at history.” His mother added happily. “I once went into an exam with my Reformation and my Restoration mixed up, and ended up writing a page on how Martin Luther burnt some cow when asked about religion and King Charles II.”

_Papal bull._

Bert bit his lip, and ended up making eye contact with Principle Smith. He cocked an eyebrow, seemingly egging Bert onto correct her. There was silence for a beat, and then the two burst out into laughter.

His mother joined in, not knowing why but figuring it was something she’d said.

_I’m laughing with Principle Smith about the Reformation._

Bert shook his head. It was turning out to be a stranger evening than he could even imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe got a cheeky mention of Levi in there 😎  
> Hope you liked the first part of the dinner :)


End file.
